


deny me your ambivalence

by heavenlymoonbeam (vilupe)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bottom Castiel, Collars, Implied Mpreg, Knotting, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Castiel, See notes for warnings, Self-Lubrication, Top Dean, courting, discussions of consent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-05-31 00:50:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6448906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vilupe/pseuds/heavenlymoonbeam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Although Castiel would deny it, there was a time in his life where he wanted nothing more than to experience his heat and become mated. Now that he is nineteen and entering heat for the first time, two years later than he should be, his feelings on the subject are both confusing and upsetting. The right to bed him is suddenly drawing the interest of unmated alphas in his pack, but all Castiel wants is for this to mean something. For someone to cherish him the way most omegas are cherished by their chosen alphas.</p><p>And if he’s truly honest with himself, what he really wants is someone so far beyond his reach that he can’t help but think the worst, even when happiness seems to be within his grasp.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pre-Heat: Days 1+2

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: There is a brief suggestion of Sam/Cas that happens twice in the fic. The first time it is a serious suggestion, but not one made from any romantic feelings that Cas has for Sam. It is quickly dismissed. Also, this fic deals with Cas's feelings about the traditions behind heat ceremonies/claiming fights, so his consent over the matter is called into question a few times. 
> 
> There are no betas in this verse.  
> A/N: This is nearly entirely drafted. I was going to post this all at once but I think I will work faster if I gave myself real deadlines, so hopefully I will post every 2-3 weeks.

Castiel is running out of time.

He wakes up in a cold sweat, residual heat from his sleep licking up his spine and sending shivers through his bones. It’s a mix of sensation—hot, cold, pleasure, pain—and it is one of the first markers of his oncoming heat. 

He is not surprised by its onset. Castiel has been nineteen for five months now. Any omega worth his slick would have already experienced the first bloom of heat between their seventeenth and eighteenth year, but Castiel has always been delayed, at least as far as most in the territory have been concerned. Nevertheless, his symptoms indicate that his body is beginning the long process of preparing itself for its very first heat, and Castiel’s first heat means that a heat ceremony will take place. 

In several days, a week if Castiel is lucky, all the families that make up the Quiet Water’s Creek territory will congregate on neutral lands to host a traditional first heat ceremony. It is the closest thing to a rite of passage for many of the younger members of the territory, and especially so for the omega involved. 

Omegas, rare, precious, and prized among the pack for their fertility, honor an alpha of their choosing who has proven themselves worthy of the claim to their first heat. The alphas traditionally prove themselves by competing in a test of strength by fighting one another. Yet, it is not only for lust and violence’s sake that they continue this tradition. 

There are many things that take place during the process to foster closeness between pack members. And because of the difficulties that alpha’s face conceiving children, much excitement and expectation is placed on an omega whenever one of the few in the pack finally reach maturity. Largely considered a way to solidify bonds and encourage mating between the allied families of the Creek, and since it is such a rare and important event for everyone, it is supposed to be the greatest privilege to be the alpha receiving the omega’s favor. 

All his life Castiel has been told that he does have a choice. That when the time comes no one in the pack would ever pressure him even though, for reasons that Hannah refuses to specify to Castiel, an omega experiencing their first heat alone is unheard of. Of course, lack of pressure aside, it is always highly encouraged that the chosen alpha is the champion of the tournament. 

At least that is the reality of the ceremony if the omega does not already have a suitor. 

The only way to avoid being fought over is for the omega to announce an intended alpha to gift their heat to in front of Alpha Singer, Pack Alpha of all of the Creek territory, and to all who are attending the ceremony. Then the whole thing becomes more about sport and distraction while the alpha and omega head back to the alpha’s den to begin the long and stressful first heat. This serves to effectively keep rivals away from the smell of heat, so that they may not pose a threat. Which, Castiel thinks, is perhaps the true reason for the heat ceremony in the first place. 

There is no denying that Castiel has enjoyed the festivities in the past. The spirit of the pack joining together in unity, establishing new bonds, and testing the strength of potential young alphas favored for higher positions within their pack’s ranks, are all enjoyable things to watch when he is not the reason for them coming together. But now that the weight of what it means to be omega is upon him, he cannot bear the thought that his very first heat is to go to some alpha that he may not even know. An alpha that may barely stand the sight of him otherwise. Not when he’s wanted more than that for so long now. 

He cannot help being bitter. Despite being fast, good at tracking and his studies, and trying his hardest to be a proper omega even though there are teasing rumors and whispers that say he is strange for liking to hunt in the first place, Castiel does not have a suitor. There is no one that wants him for him, and not just for his heat and slick and the dubious honor of being his first. 

It makes him find the whole process archaic and offensive. 

He says as much to his sister, Anna, while sitting in front of the house they share with their cousins the very same day he woke up in pre-heat. 

Anna sighs and throws an arm around his shoulders, squeezing him to her tightly. “But remember Charlie’s ceremony? You seemed pleased when she chose Jo, and that was after Jo trounced those alphas competing against her,” Anna reasons. “And those two were a complete surprise since they weren’t courting beforehand either.”  

 “Yes, but Jo and Charlie have been friends for years.” Castiel grumbles, “And even if it was a surprise, you cannot claim that Jo’s crush was subtle. Charlie had wanted and was _wanted_ by someone that she was comfortable with. That is more than I can ask for.” 

“Is it?” Anna asks, dragging her heels through the dirt path in front of them until they knock against the steps they are sitting on. She slides her arm off of him to lean forward on her knees and looks into the surrounding woods with distant eyes, furrowing her brow in thought. 

Instead of the bright lilting tones that normally colored Anna’s voice, it is weighed down in contemplation. Castiel can feel his stomach tighten in anticipation, and despite his general ill will about everything today, he is undeniably curious about what is going on in her clever mind. 

Castiel rakes his fingers through his hair, wishing that she would just tell him what she’s thought up. He picks up twig that she had kicked up and fiddles with it, lazily twirling it in his fingers while prompting her. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, don’t you have any friends that are alphas? Or maybe an alpha that _you_ want?” Anna shrugs, scoffing a little. “After all, why does the alpha have to be the one doing the courting?” 

Sitting up from his slouch and dropping the twig, Castiel focuses the intensity of his gaze entirely on his sister. There was an alpha that he wanted. An alpha that he had wanted for so long and with such intensity that the idea of sharing his heat with him made Castiel’s entire body tingle pleasantly, the muscles of his lower back and stomach twitching under his skin. He could—he could go now and ask Dea—no, he couldn’t. 

He did not even know truly know Dean beyond simple, casual interactions. Just because he was close friends with his younger brother, didn’t mean that he could ask Dean for a favor like this. Not when Dean was so, so everything that was good and wonderful and alpha. Not when Dean wouldn’t even know who he was if it weren’t for Sam. 

“Sam!” Castiel exclaims, “Sam is an alpha and my best friend! I can ask Sam.” Satisfied with this brilliant solution, he jumps up and plants a kiss on Anna’s brow in his excitement. 

“Thank you, sister,” he says before running down the path towards Winchester lands. 

“That’s not who I meant, Castiel!” she yells after him. 

But he is too far down the path to hear her. 

* * *

He makes it to the Winchester’s house in short time, out of breath and softly panting with his hands braced against his knees. A pair of tennis shoes stop in front of him, crushing the dried out leaves underfoot, and when he looks up he sees the bemused face of Sam Winchester. 

Sam has been his friend for as long as Castiel can remember, since they were two of the five kids that were born into the pack around 19 years ago. Castiel thinks that Dean might insist that they are friends because they are both giant nerds, but the fact remains that Sam has become someone that Castiel can rely on as much, if not more so, than family. Castiel only hopes that he will be able to rely on him for this. 

“Dude, why did you run here?” Sam asks, the corners of his eyes creasing in a smile. 

Castiel shakes his head in dismissal of the question. It should be fairly obvious why he ran here once they were inside and away from all of the outside smells. 

He walks passed Sam and into the house. Sam snorts and treads in behind him, realizing that that is as good as he is going to get as an answer. 

Inside the Winchester’s house, Castiel instinctively breathes in the scents that have sunk into the very framework of the house. Normally smelling like a mixture of fresh, full bodied spices and a touch of vanilla, the house’s scent is the common thread that Mary, Dean, and Sam share in their own scents. It never seems to fail in calming him, despite his inability to discern the individual scent markers that belong to each one of them specifically. 

Although it is more difficult to fully scent the living room in his state, his heat messing with an already weak sense of smell, he lets that instinct carry on as he waits for Sam to fully register his situation. 

Once Sam enters the living room, he lightly brushes past Castiel by habit on his way to the cough when he suddenly stumbles, tripping on air as his nostrils flair in response to Castiel’s presence. 

Castiel watches as Sam nose crinkles. The smell of the woods—leaves, and mud, and animal musk—no longer interfere with the strains of heat-sugar that is leaking from his pores. Castiel normally has a hard time smelling his own scent enough to gauge things like this, but he knows that it’s not at full force yet. It’s not the overwhelming fog that will muddy the brains of even the most uninterested of alphas. Nevertheless, it _is_ pre-heat, and it should be strong enough to occlude Castiel’s natural scent of dewy mornings and mint leaves. 

Sam rubs his fingers against his nose and coughs out a rough, “ _Cas_.” 

“You need to help me through this,” he says bluntly, after all there is no point in softening his request now that it is clear what the issue is. 

Sam wraps his fingers around Castiel’s bicep and pulls him up the stairs and into his room. He let’s go immediately once the door thuds shut behind them, paces the room twice, and then sits down on the threadbare rolling chair that had been passed around between family members far longer than it should have been. It makes a sound akin to a dying seagull, and for a beat or two that is the only sound that fills the cold, silent room. 

Sam’s elbows are on his knees and his head rests in his upturned palms. 

Castiel cannot fathom why Sam is apparently having a meltdown, but he tries again. Perhaps if he asked gently instead of insisting, then Sam will actually respond instead of going into hysterics. “I need an alpha to take my first heat, Sam. Please, would you consider helping me?” 

He looks up, a pained expression clouding his features. “I—I can’t just! No, Cas, you’ve got to see that this is not something I can do,” he says softly. 

“Why?” 

Sam is silent at his inquiry, and as the seconds creep by Castiel can only feel anger and such hopelessness in the space between his ribs. Frustrated, he takes two steps towards Sam before saying, “I do not see why you can’t help me. Is this not better than making me choose someone I might not even know? Is this not better than rewarding self-satisfied alpha violence with the plundering of my body?” 

Castiel stumbles backwards, ashamed. He can feel his neck and face heat in embarrassment and has to clench his eyes tightly to try to stop the stinging in his eyes. He didn’t mean to say that. He is pressuring Sam, he knows. It is incredibly unjust of him to pressure his friend into a situation that neither of them want a part in, but this feels like his only hope. 

“We both know this wouldn’t be right,” Sam says. There’s a reluctant hitch in his voice as his eyes dart to a photo that included Dean on his desk. “Do you really want me to say it?” 

Castiel instantly deflates. His wretched, obvious crush laid bare between them without so much as a name said. Of course Sam knows that Castiel is hopelessly in love with his brother. Of course it would be wrong to use Sam for his heat when Sam does not want him and Castiel could _never_ _want anyone_ but Dean. 

But Dean is an impossible dream to someone as small and broken as Castiel. 

“I can’t just—he—,” his voice cracks, and there is nothing left to fight for anymore. “I’m sorry, Sam.” 

Castiel turns to leave, opening the door to Sam’s room and gripping the handle tightly as if he could steal the strength from the very foundations of this house. 

“I wish I could, Cas.” Sam says because Sam is good and kind and it must pain him to be unable to help a friend. 

He shakes his head, huffing softly. “No, Sam. We would not have been the same afterwards. You are right to say no,” he says. If it comes out bitter and strained, neither of them acknowledges it. 

He stumbles out in the hall and quickly strides to the stairs on the far side of the Winchester’s upper landing. He’s shaky and irritated, even though a large part of him is unsurprised. His nose isn’t even strong enough to pick up the blended scents of the house over what he can get of his own scent now that he is too frazzled and upset to breathe deeply, so there is nothing he can do to immediately calm himself. Before he manages to begin his descent to the lower floor, thick fingers encircle his wrist and stop him. 

Slightly damp and strong, Castiel is instantly aware of the breadth and feel of them over his skin. Something in him, primal and sweetly curling through his blood, knows it is Dean. Still, when Castiel turns around, he is stunned, suddenly finding it even more difficult to find breath to fill his lungs. In front of him stands his greatest fantasy. Dean Winchester’s hand is firm and damp around his wrist. He is shirtless and semi-wet, droplets of water dripping from flat strands of his short hair to make wet paths along his chest. There is a towel clinging to his hips, and it is so obvious that nothing lies below it that Castiel is burning, burning, burning. The scent of his own desire makes him dizzy and everything sort of spins in place as Castiel allows Dean to tug him closer without protest. 

He prays that the pre-heat is enough of an excuse for the want coursing through his veins because he does not think he could successfully explain why he is nearly a puddle at Dean’s feet from one innocent touch. 

Dean’s face is tilted forward, making his eyes shadowed and hard to see. The line of his jaw looks tight, tense enough to prominently see the muscles on his neck, and his pulse beats a fast, hard thrum that Castiel can see under freckled skin. There is something dangerous in his mien, an alphaness that calls to Castiel. It excites him, for he knows there is no danger to him here. Dean’s grip is only tight enough to hold, nothing more, and the part of Castiel that is dripping sweet and heavy through his veins, shifting his body into receptive maturity, wants to know how far he can push this side of Dean until there is red staring at him through flecks of spring green. 

His voice is rough and quiet when he asks, “Why Sam?”   

The question is a bucket of ice-water on Castiel’s need, and he wrenches his hand free from Dean’s grip. Curling in on himself, shoulders forward like the motion could shield him from the sudden chill the thought of his heat spent with some foreign alpha inspired, he spat out, “Because there is no one else.”

Silence fills the space between them. Castiel not daring to look up for fear of what his own expression may reveal. Dean stands in front of him, but Castiel can’t help but feel as if the distance between them is an ocean instead of two small steps. He is slick; his insides clench at the thought of it when just moments before everything was warm and tinged red with desire. Frustration heats him up again, turns his cheeks pink and his eyes wet. 

He shifts his body, turning in the space, and sees Dean—freckles dark against red and eyes bright with something Castiel cannot name. He turns and before Dean can reply to his declaration, Castiel’s running down the stairs and back home, leaving the Winchester’s screen door slapping loudly against the frame in his wake. 

As he rushes through the trail to his house, he pays no mind to the interested looks he gets from other pack members. Castiel takes in a lungful of pine rich air, and reminds himself that he has yet to wash up today. He needs to wash up. He needs to stop feeling like the ground in going to break and crumble beneath him.  He needs to stop wanting Dean. 

He needs to calm down because there are still many things that have to happen before he even enters the full bloom of his heat. 

* * *

The water in his bathroom is ice cold to offset the discomfort he feels down to his bones, but it is of no help. Castiel’s dizzy and upset by the end of the shower and takes a moment to sit on the couch before heading down to remind Hannah, his cousin and family matriarch, that he needs to promptly make an appointment with both Dr. Joshua and Alpha Singer. Instead his body is heavy and his head and his heart ache. He flips through a seemingly endless array of distractions before settling on a documentary about pack territory wars and falls asleep without noticing how much time has passed. 

Hannah is the one that finds him, dozing fitfully and damp with sweat. 

“Oh little cousin, this must be hard on you,” she says, laying a gentle hand on his forehead then motioning for her mate to pick him up and take him to his room. 

At the sound of her voice, Castiel opens his eyes, blinking away his drowsiness until her worried face comes into focus. He protests softly when Inias picks him up, mumbling his certainty that he is fine enough to go see Dr. Joshua or at least make the appointment with him if they would only give him some time to wake up and gather his bearings. 

But Hannah ensures that it is unnecessary; she has already talked to both Bobby and Joshua and asked them about their schedules. 

He shouldn’t be happy about this. Inconveniencing Hannah and Inias is just another reason for alphas to disapprove of him, thinking he has ignored what they deem to be proper behavior for an omega. But right now Castiel cannot bring himself to care what people outside their family might say.

Inias listens to his half-hearted protests from the upstairs rec room to his dark bedroom and murmurs comforting words, the vibrations of it low and steady against Castiel’s side. He is as much of a source of support as Anna and Hannah, and Castiel is nearly lulled to sleep again as he is placed into his bed. He buries himself deeply his duvet, eyes lazily tracking the green glow of stars that wink brightly at him from walls and ceiling of his room as his listens to the fading voices of his cousins, grateful that he can avoid this entire ordeal for one more day. 

* * *

The next morning Castiel wakes up to the sound of curious voices creeping up from the first floor. He slides out of bed, letting the sweat damp sheets and duvet puddle onto the floor. His skin feels sticky, damp, and he hates to think of what this will be like when there is a surplus of slick to contend with, messy and hot on his thighs. The air in his room is freezing compared the bubble of pre-heat induced warmth that was trapped under his covers, so he grabs the hoodie draped over his desk chair and tugs it on, hoping that an extra layer will also suffice to cover the sweetness that clings to his skin.

It would do him good to take a shower, but he is too curious about the commotion downstairs, louder than any noise created by just Anna and his cousins would be. He makes his way down the steps cautiously. 

The stairs open out to the sitting room, and he is instantly greeted with the stares of what appears to be his entire family, distant aunts and cousins and all, as soon as he steps off the bottom step. Out of the many wide stares in the room, it is his sister’s expression that he finds himself zeroing in on. Her brows are strangely slanted over her eyes, though they remain bright, and her mouth keeps on tensing and relaxing like Anna doesn’t know whether to be stern or delighted. 

Intriguing as her her expression is, it does not hold Castiel’s attention for long. It cannot, for in her hands is a box. It is made of darkly, stained oak and delicately painted along the edges in sweeping spirals of rose and pale gold. In the center of it, holding the top to the base is a curving, golden clasp tied shut by a red silk ribbon that is so eye catching and vibrant it seems to have stolen all the light from the room. It is impossible to mistake it for anything but a courting gift. 

For a moment Castiel thinks that it is for Anna, but those doubts are tossed aside when she presents the box to him. Her face settles into a reassuring smile at what surely is a mixture of the terror and elation that he feels upon his face. He stumbles forward and takes it, heart thumping. He thinks his hands might be shaking because Anna still holds the box steady within her grip and tells him to just open it when he makes an attempt to take it from her. Castiel is thankful, for to break a courtship box would be crushing and irrevocably ruin everything. He does not think he has it in him to handle the consequences of ruining things just before they have begun.

He fumbles with the ribbon and manages to slide it out of its intricate knot around the clasp. Castiel’s cheeks flare bright red, instantly wishing that there wasn’t an audience watching him finger a metaphorical knot. He takes a moment to wrap the ribbon around his fingers before he continues, not wanting to lose it.  He cannot help the giddiness that settles low in his belly at the feel of silk tightly wound against the soft spaces between his fingers.  Knots in courtship are symbolic of a mating tie and are only used by suitors that intend on a permanent mating bond. And as such, it is instantly a precious thing to him despite Castiel not knowing who would send him a gift like this. 

Returning his focus to the box he slides the clasp apart easily. Inside lies a beautiful knife.  It is simple in design— the handle made from wood with leather trimming to ease his grip, the sharp blade embellished with only his name in curling script on its flat surface. There are no unnecessary frills, and when Castiel picks it up to test the weight and size in his hand, he is breathless with excitement because this knife was made for hunting. 

Perfectly balanced and effortless to handle, Castiel is so happy with the knife that he does not even care how strange of a courting gift it is. 

He leans down to scent both knife and box, understanding that it is futile to try and grasp any sort of scent with the pungent mix of wood, metal, and leather that surround the gift, but he needs to know who sent this with every fiber of his being. He needs to know if he can dare allow himself to hope for an alpha out there that might actually understand him. Along the edges of the box’s cushioned inlay, he catches a brief hit of something that is sharp, almost like spice, before Anna closes the box and places it behind her. 

“Do you like the gift?” Anna asks. Her voice is underlined with something searching and curious, as if his answer to this question holds a lot more weight than the simplicity of its present.

Castiel tilts his head, confused for a moment. Suddenly, he remembers that as his oldest member of his immediate family, whoever this alpha is had to gain her permission before attempting his or her courtship. 

Though he wants to say more, he knows the way of things enough for what it next. He hands her the ribbon with reluctant hands so that it may make its way back to its owner before tomorrow, and says, “I am curious for what lies ahead.” 

“I will let the alpha know that you are receptive to the courtship,” she assures, smiling at him in happiness.

  
Palming the knife, his eyes slow to part from its sharp blade, he does not put up too much protest when Hannah and Inias usher him out of the room. Anna must return the box and he can’t see where she is going, he knows. The tradition and secrecy of it all fails to bother him; he is willing to let this mystery continue if only to test out how perfect the balance of his gift truly is.


	2. Pre-Heat: Days 2+3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel comes to terms with the knowledge that his heat is going to happen whether he's ready for it or not, and gets a surprise just when he's starting to get used to what lies ahead for him. Or in which there is angst, smut, and exposition, but not quite in that order.

Hannah finds him in the woods that surround their house, a curious glint in her eyes as she sees that still he carries the knife within his grasp. He had initially come out here to actually use it, perhaps even track something down to cook for dinner, but instead found himself sitting on an old, mossy stump, flipping it in the air and admiring and inspecting it with deft hands. 

It’s not something that he is proud of, for he does not consider himself the type of omega that would be swayed so easily by gifts and traditional courting practices, but there is something about this gift that settles right and warm within his gut. Maybe it’s because the gift says so much about the alpha. Surely one that would send their omega a tool for hunting would approve of the things that bring Castiel joy? Or perhaps it is the tiny part of him that hopes it is Dean despite everything he knows telling him that that is an impossibility. It makes him loathe to part with it just yet although he knows that there is little chance he can spend the entire day out in the woods when time is so limited to him now. 

“I take it you really do like the gift,” she says, amused and a tad knowing. 

“I like that it is sharp and well designed,” Castiel says lowly. He tilts his chin up and sniffs, not wanting to admit how pleased he is but unable to hide from someone who knows him as well as Hannah. “I am even willing to say that it seems like it was very well thought out.” 

She smiles at him, a slim whisper of muscle movement that is more of a suggestion of mirth than the wide, serene grins that Anna was more prone to. “Anna has refused to tell me who sent it, but she knows you well enough that I doubt it’s someone distasteful.” 

Castiel nods, flipping the knife in his hand one last time before he tucks it into the sheath that lined his boots. He rocks to his feet smoothly, not liking how awkward he began to feel under Hannah’s humored filled gaze. 

“Heaven forbid it come from someone like old Zachariah,” Hannah teases, quickly dodging the dirt that he kicks at her in outrage at the mere mention of such a horrific possibility. 

After their playful moment passes, Hannah looks at him with serious eyes, the corners of her mouth turned down in compassion. “You know as well as I that if you have already been given a courting gift then rumors are starting to spread among the pack members,” she starts, words slow and cautious. “It won’t be long before people will ask why a ceremony hasn’t been announced.” 

At Castiel’s scowling silence, Hannah continues, “Meeting with Joshua and Bobby is unavoidable, Castiel.” 

“I know,” he mumbles. Castiel reaches up to rub his eyes with his hoodie covered wrists, trying to shake off the pressure that is building behind them. “Will you come with me?” He asks, hating how small his voice sounds. 

“Of course, little cousin,” Hannah says, ruffling his hair carelessly. “Whatever you need.” 

* * *

Barely an hour passes before Hannah is knocking on his bedroom door, asking if he is ready to walk to the clinic that is on pack grounds. Unlike Castiel’s college, located three hours away in the nearest city, the clinic is just one example of the type of necessary facilities on their lands that make their pack almost entirely self-sufficient—a small village that is ever expanding along the creek.    

Although there are several specialists and nurses that help run the clinic, Castiel will meet with Joshua today. A kind, older omega, Dr. Joshua is the only one that sees to the pack’s few omegas, a fact that would be comforting if not for the knowledge of why Castiel was here tying his stomach into knots. 

The brown lumpy chairs in the waiting room are uncomfortable and dig into the bottom of his thighs, and Castiel tries his best not to fidget as he waits to be called in. Hannah’s presence next to him does nothing but emit calm serenity, and Castiel truly wishes that he could appreciate it more. Across from them sits an alpha couple, their young child sitting on his mother’s lap while she fusses with wiping sticky food residue from his palms. It’s a happy image, at least it is supposed to be with so few children present in their pack, but Castiel finds that he can barely look at them without succumbing to the confusing mixture of feelings that he has on the subject. 

“Castiel?” A gentle voice asks, disrupting his reverie. Dr. Joshua stands at the door that leads to the exam rooms, the gray flecks in his hair shining under the bright lights of the clinic. “If you would like to come on back now, I can see you.” 

Castiel stands up, takes a step, and stops, hesitating to look back at Hannah. She gives him a reassuring smile that really does nothing for his nerves, and he is certain that he would stay here not moving if not for Dr. Joshua clearing his throat behind him. 

As he stumbles forward towards Dr. Joshua, the doctor asks kindly, “Would you feel more comfortable if Hannah came with us, Castiel?” 

He bites his lip and nods, not moving again until Hannah is standing next to him, gently pressing her shoulder to his in support. 

They make their way into Dr. Joshua’s room side by side. The room is small, furnished with the typical things that fill exam rooms. Castiel sits on the exam table without being told, his hands tightly fisted into his jeans above his knee, ankles crossed. Castiel had only been in this particular room of the clinic once before, on the cusp of puberty when he was desperate to be like the other omega’s in the pack and present his heat in a normal, predictable way. Of course there would have been nothing normal about a fourteen year old omega starting their heat cycle, but he was desperate for it. 

At that time he had come without Hannah or Anna’s knowledge, eager and nervous in equal measures as he insisted that he was ready for his heat, even if it was chemically induced. He had ended up leaving angry that Dr. Joshua could do nothing but gently tell him that his heat would come when his body was ready for it. 

Now, with a mixture of steadily growing resignation and unease licking up his spine at the mere thought of what is to come, it seems like the time when he actually wanted this was more a strange imagining than anything that happened in reality. 

As Hannah moves to stand unobtrusively in the corner, Castiel focuses his attention on Dr. Joshua, not wanting to be rude despite the tension he can’t seem to shake. 

Thankfully, Dr. Joshua is extremely attune to his feelings. He assures Castiel that the sole reason he is here is to make sure that he is healthy and to give them an idea of when his heat is going to hit. He asks Castiel questions about his symptoms and feelings, in a way that is noninvasive and strangely sets him at ease. Unfortunately, there is still a need for a blood sample which is taken from Castiel by a nurse in an adjacent room. Her touch is quick and professional, but it’s still unwanted despite how much they insist it is necessary. Because he has never gone through this before, his body has yet to set a pattern of when and how long the whole thing will be. So this is the only way the clinic can test for a general window of what day his heat will hit in order to prevent the potential pain and awkwardness of being caught unawares by it. Castiel just bites his lip and holds his tongue since he is well aware that there are far more physically intrusive ways to test for this. 

The reminder that his heat is not really his and that they need to know the start of it because he will have to share it with some alpha, is enough to return the tension from before. Castiel shifts in frustration, biting his lip so hard he thinks it will bleed. The nurse leads him back into the room that holds both Hannah and Dr. Joshua, and he scowls petulantly as he returns to his seat on the exam table. 

“Is everything alright, Castiel?” Dr. Joshua asks, his eyes dark and filled with concern. 

“Sorry, I am just against the whole idea that I have to participate in meaningless sex in order to safely pass my heat,” Castiel grits out, words heavy and biting. And it’s rude, so very rude, he knows, because Dr. Joshua is merely trying to help him get through this in the safest way possible. But the feelings that he holds within him are irrational, and he is helpless against the outburst. 

“Castiel!” Hannah gasps. Her face is a picture of surprise at such abnormal behavior from him. 

He winces. Not because he fears any harm from Hannah’s upset but because the thought of disappointing her is painful when the knowledge of all she’s done for Anna and him lies heavy in his heart. 

He opens his mouth to apologize and is interrupted before he can get the words out. 

“Can I talk to Castiel alone?” Dr. Joshua asks, turning to Hannah for the first time since they’ve entered his exam room. 

She hesitates, looking to Castiel in confirmation, and at his nod she sighs and slips out the door, quietly closing it behind her. 

Without Hannah’s calming presence in the room, the tension that he felt turns into unease. He stares at the pale blue walls in front of him and twists his fingers together in his lap. Briefly, he considers that he should apologize for snapping at Dr. Joshua, but finds that without Hannah in the room, he does not actually feel guilt for his feelings. 

From the corner of his eye, Castiel watches the doctor pull a rolling stool from under the countertop that doubles as the exam room’s desk. The silence that fills the room is broken by a heavy sigh. Castiel curiously turns towards Dr. Joshua, watching as he sets down Castiel’s file and rubs tired fingers along the bridge of his nose. 

“Whether or not you want to acknowledge it, I have been in your position before," he says. He looks at Castiel with understanding dark eyes. “Although I think I remember being far less stubbornly opposed to these traditions than you seem to be.” 

“Well maybe I wouldn’t be if I understood why everyone insists that safety has anything to do with this,” Castiel replies because from what he can remember from the rudimentary health classes that they were subjected to in school, there is some connection between heat sex and the safety of the omega. He holds his tongue on saying more, his memory of the class foggy at best and the information he could find online, unclear and spotty—and that is when he ignores the more horrifying websites. 

Dr. Joshua folds his hands in his lap and carefully begins to explain, “You have known you were an omega since childhood, and at childhood there is nothing that differentiates you from your male alpha peers except for the fact that you are also in possession of a womb. It is generally accepted that alpha and omega both do not truly apply until a person has become fully sexually mature. So while, yes, you have been omega all your life and that has not changed, you have yet to truly understand what that means because your instincts have not been at the forefront until now. What you can sense, your ability to scent, your vision and perception of the world, is only a fraction of what you will experience after your heat hormones have flooded your system. This is one of the reasons why we cannot give you suppressants that would interfere with these hormones for your first heat.” 

This is far more detailed than the simple glossing over than occurred when he was younger. And though it's both a clear and logical description, Castiel does not stop himself from opening his mouth in protest at the fact that nothing that Dr. Joshua has stated changes the how he feels about the supposed ‘safety’ of the whole heat ceremony tradition. 

Dr. Joshua calmly holds a single hand up, effectively stopping Castiel from interrupting as he continues his explanation. “And despite what you may think, an alpha is an important part of this too. Your body is trying to fully mature, doing the work that would take years in an alpha in just about two weeks. It will be overwhelming and uncontrollable, and you will need to rely on your combined pheromone chemistry and an alpha’s touch to stay safe and sane.” 

Castiel takes a deep, shaky breath, nodding his head in concession to the doctor. Everything he has been told in addition to this explanation begin to come together in his head. He wants to feel relieved but ends up shivering at the weight of a little known alpha’s hands ghosting across his skin in a phantom touch. He squints at the floor and tries not to let his disquiet show. “But why force me to choose from some archaic display of power?” 

Dr. Joshua chuckles softly, the sound carrying in the small room. It is not mocking or unsettling but instead the type of sound someone would make out of surprise and affection. Castiel can’t help but want to roll his eyes at the sound. 

“Castiel, tell me honestly when was the last time you remember an omega in the pack not having a willing alpha already in mind when their first heat hits?” Dr. Joshua asks. “Your body is going through changes whether you like it or not, and it’s going to want to mate and breed once the full brunt of your heat hits. By the time comes when you have to actually choose someone, you will most likely already have an alpha that you want.” 

“Breed?” Castiel stammers out. The rest of Joshua’s words are lost on that one gut-twisting syllable. Breeding meant babies. Breeding meant _babies!_ Castiel licks his lips as his mind races. The image of those alphas and their child in the waiting room floods his vision for a second and everything is tumbling and his heart lurches in his chest with emotion.   

“Yes,” He continues. His expression gentle in the face of Castiel’s verbal alarm. “And at the point where your need will hit its peak, it may not even matter to you with who or how many alphas you breed with. Or you might refuse every alpha but the one that you find perfect. How different omegas react to heat hormones is not something we can test.” He pauses, rolling his shoulders in and taking a deep breath. “But as you are fully aware, that is one of the reasons all alphas are kept busy with festivities until the couple is safely tucked away for the duration of the omega’s heat.” 

Castiel curls his fingers tightly in the fabric of his sweater. His voice is very thin as he says, “I—I’m not ready. I don’t want a child right now.” He doesn’t say, _likely not ever_ , because he foolishly refuses lose hope on the one condition that would have him saying yes. 

“Sadly, we are not so far removed from our wild cousins as we would like to think,” Dr. Joshua says. He stands up to pull some folded papers out of a drawer. They look like pamphlets, the bright lettering eye-catching and distracting, but Dr. Joshua doesn’t move to give them to Castiel. “You are young, fertile. Your immediate family is small with a good matriarch and you are in a stable pack with a strong Alpha. You may not think that it’s the right time to want children, but your body does.” 

“I don’t know why Hannah couldn’t have just told me all this to begin with when I asked,” Castiel says, grumbling for lack of anything else to say in the face of so much heavy information. 

“She’s an alpha and with another alpha for a mate. What would she know about the intricacies of omega heat?” 

Castiel shrugs in response, his mind focused on his upcoming heat and what it means. In two or three days, he’s going to be vulnerable to alphas yes, but more importantly, he’ll be vulnerable to the demands of his own mating drive. So out of control that he will want babies, and a knot, and even a claim. It’s too much to process. And he doesn’t know if he’s prepared to even contemplate all of this outside of his childish fantasies from when he was fourteen. Castiel trembles a little, arms wrapped tightly around his body. 

At his silence, Dr. Joshua steps forward and places the two pamphlets next to Castiel. He stays close, the warmth from his body and soft hint of his powdery, citrus scent offering a strange sort of comfort to Castiel. He reminds himself that the doctor has been through this very same process years ago when they probably didn’t have the same push to treat omegas with respect as they do under Alpha Singer’s leadership. It calms him enough to look Dr. Joshua in the eyes once more. 

“I know that wasn’t exactly pleasant to hear, Castiel,” He says, tapping the pamphlets at Castiel’s side on the exam table. “So let me tell you something I say to every omega that passes through the clinic—sharing a heat does not have to mean having sex. There are items you can use, and if you inform Bobby and your alpha before your heat hits its peak, there are pills that will ensure the alpha’s libido stays dormant and they will remain flaccid throughout your heat.” 

His eyes widen at the new information, fingers reaching out to curl around the pamphlets. One is clearly more information about the drug that keeps alphas in control and unaroused for the duration of heat. The other mentions something about birth control, and he slides it under the former, focused only on what this pill could possibly mean.  A heat spent with an alpha that didn’t end up in sex is an option he didn’t even know existed. For the first time Castiel feels like he can actually go back to looking on the tradition of the heat ceremony with favor instead of this dread. 

Still he hesitates. He doesn’t want to completely dismiss everything they just spoke about in light of recent knowledge. He clears his throat and asks, “But I will want it?” 

Dr. Joshua nods, one eyebrow raised in a knowing arch as he says, “Let’s just say that if you do sate your heat organically there are always safe guards against unwanted pregnancies.” 

“Contraceptives,” Castiel murmurs, finally squinting down at the second pamphlet that he holds in his hand. 

Castiel’s initial reaction is to not even consider taking the contraceptive. After all, if he doesn’t have to be knotted in order to spend his heat with an alpha, then he won’t have to worry about it. Still it may be painful to deny it. His body so out of control with want that he won’t understand why he made the choices he made before his heat hit. And then—then there is always the possibility that he could change his mind. Castiel remembers the weight and feel of the knife from this morning in his hand. Didn’t he want an alpha to show interest in him? And a courting gift so matched to his desires is in fact interest. Interest that will most likely continue to arrive in beautiful boxes with delicate ribbons up until the day they hold the ceremony. 

Even more pressing on his mind, is the hope that still lingers deep within him. He still wants Dean to take him, heat or no heat, and that’s not something that’s going to change. Would he really not want to experience a heat fully with Dean if he had the chance to? Castiel admits to himself that that is something he would regret so very much. 

In the end it will be easier to change his mind about having sex that it would be to take the contraceptive the day of his heat and expect it to be fully effective. Castiel says, “I think it would be best for you to administer the contraceptive regardless of whether or not I engage in sex during my heat.” 

“Alright, Castiel. If you’d just wait here will I get the injection; it’ll only take a moment.” 

It stings a little, and Castiel is quick to pull his hoodie back on after the doctor sticks a band aid to the slightly bleeding puncture on his arm. Everything moves fast after that, Dr. Joshua detailing the list of symptoms he should watch for and telling him to call if he has any concerns. 

Castiel can’t help but feel a little lighter, the worry that he may end up pregnant with some alpha’s baby with or without a formal mating or even the desire to carry their child put to rest. He follows Dr. Joshua’s lead, walking out towards the front of the clinic in order to meet with Hannah again in the waiting room. It surprises him then when the doctor turns around just before they reach the door. 

“We should be able to get back to you with a date your heat should begin by tomorrow afternoon,” he says. His face twists into an odd expression then. Almost as if he thinks better of what he is about to say. But the question spills out in carefully stilted words, “Before you leave, I do want to ask you one more thing. Did something happen in the time between the fourteen year old running in here demanding I set off his heat and the young man standing before me that dreads it so?” 

The implication is pretty obvious. He’s being asked if he’s been damaged in some way, traumatized. It’s mortifying to know that he’s made Dr. Joshua worry when it’s nothing like that at all.  A hot, coiling mixture of shame and guilt twists in his gut, and he bites out “I don’t know what you are talking about.” 

It’s a lie of course. He thinks about his imperfections as an omega, about how he’s set himself up for loneliness and heartbreak, every day. 

* * *

When he and his cousin return to their house, he walks straight up into his room and locks himself away from the rest of his family. It’s a bratty thing to do, and Anna will worry for him. The knowledge doesn’t stop him from doing it though. Right now all he wants is silence and to do whatever it takes not to think about the appointment he’s just had. 

He texts Sam something silly and sarcastic about how he thought going through heat meant he didn’t have to attend long edifying lectures, wanting to break the ice after yesterday’s unpleasantness. And the selfie he sends in return, rolled eyes and scrunched up face, makes him chuckle. At least it does until he notices Mary and Dean sitting at their dining room table in the background, seemingly deep in conversation about something. 

An ache hits him all the way down to his bones, and he has to set his phone aside for a moment. 

Even though he grumbled at Sam about being exempt from school work just now, Castiel ends up on his laptop, emailing his teacher and working on assignments that are available through the online component of his classes. Thankfully, with the wide spread of pack territories making colleges and universities set up away from any one pack in order to stay neutral, most of the courses offered only require students to come to campus for exams and finals. The rest of the lectures and work is available online for students that have pack duties, heats, or can’t afford to drive several hours every weekday. 

He stays up far later than he intends, working on two things that will be due after his heat fully starts. His sleep is restful for it. Castiel’s mind far too tired to dream up any images that would stir his blood and make him slick. 

* * *

Castiel startles awake. The sun shining into his room a bright sting to his eyes. He’s trapped, unable to move his legs because there’s a heavy weight pinning them to the mattress. He moves his head, squints down the line of his body, and, annoyed, huffs. Sitting on his legs is Anna. In her hands is her chosen weapon of torture, a fluffy pillow taken from Castiel’s own bed. He glares at the object as if it had the agency to conduct this betrayal. 

“Time to get up, Castiel.” Anna says, the right corner of her lips tilted up in a smirk. 

He groans and turns into the pillow he is still using, kicking out his legs so that she’s unceremoniously tossed from his bed. The thump of her hitting the floor is satisfying and he mumbles tiredly, “Why are you being an ass?” 

“That’s a mean thing to say to someone who’s been up extra early just to bring you this little gift,” she sing-songs, and the worst part of it all is that she knows how annoying she’s being right now. 

No that’s not right. The worst part of it all is that somehow her teasing works. 

He lifts his head up to stare at her with bleary eyes, her bottle red curls flaming bright and blurry in the morning light. She reaches to a spot behind her, just past where his bed ends and he can’t see the floor, and slides the same box from yesterday into her lap. 

It’s just as beautiful, and he gaze holds on the bright red shine of the ribbon as his mind just halts, white empty static rushing in his ears. Castiel sits up quickly once he’s gotten a hold of himself. 

“See? I wouldn’t wake you up so early just for nothing, Castiel,” Anna says, her grin sharp and clever. “I figured you wouldn’t want all that fanfare from yesterday once again, and made sure to sneak out extra early so none of the relatives living nearby saw me on the way back here. 

“You’re the best, Anna,” Castiel breathes out, reaching down a hand to pull her back onto his bed. 

She giggles, shoving the box into his hands as soon as she’s sitting on his bunched up comforter, cross legged and smug. “The little bird changes his tune so quickly!” 

“Ha. Ha. I won’t hesitate to kick you off again if you’re going to be worse than Gabriel about this.” 

Anna blinks at him. Her wide, chocolate brown eyes teasing him with fake innocence. “I don’t think it’s possible to be worse than Gabriel.” 

Castiel rolls his eyes, fingers twisting themselves into the sheets pooled at his sides. “If it is, you’d be the one to manage it,” he mumbles, but it is halfhearted, his annoyance at his sister lost in place of the trembling fascination coming to life under his skin. His heart is drumming loudly in his ears, and his muscles twitch, clenching and unclenching with how tense and eager he’s suddenly become. 

He takes a deep breath and makes quick work of the ribbon, not wanting to fret and linger with Anna watching him so carefully at the foot of his bed. 

Upon opening the box, Castiel’s breath leaves him in a rush, the silky ribbon that he’s tangled around his fingers once more falling to coil and curl next to him. Inside the box lies a braided cord of leather about half an inch thick.  The braid is made up of two different tones of leather, one a soft, buttery color and the other a deep russet, and at the end is an intricate loop and strand system designed to tie it in place. His lungs start to burn with how hard it is to breathe right now, and Castiel forces himself to take deeper breaths as he gently lifts the collar from its container and slides it against the skin of his palms. 

It’s painfully obvious that the collar is for mating. At least, it is the type of handmade collar usually worn as a claim in place of a mark. To give one to him just two days into courting has heavier implications than Castiel believed this alpha to have in mind. 

He looks up at Anna, wordlessly questioning her through his confusion. “Is this a serious offer?” He ends up asking when he can no longer bear it. 

“I wouldn’t have agreed to give it to you if I didn’t think the alpha was dead serious, Castiel,” she whispers, nudging his feet with her own. 

“I don’t really know what to say.” It comes out high pitched and borderline hysterical, but Castiel does not think that he can be blamed when he’s holding an alpha’s offer to claim him for life in his hands. 

Perhaps the strangest thing about it all is that while looking at the mating collar, he can’t help but think that whoever this alpha is must know him extraordinarily well. Because this simple, soft band of leather is everything Castiel would want from a mating collar if he had any say in it, and it just seems to inexplicably match expectations he didn’t even knew he had. 

“Hey, you know what?” Anna nervously says, interrupting his train of thought and quickly snatching up the box and ribbon in her pale, gentle hands. “How about instead of thinking about this just yet we sneak out to the pond and go for a swim? We can waste the whole day away!” 

Grateful for her offer to distract him, Castiel sets the collar on his nightstand and forces himself to look away. The pond will be freezing this time of year, the leaves already bleeding red and yellow as they’re kissed by the brisk autumn air, but Castiel could use something cold and shocking to clear his head. “That actually sounds really good right now.” 

Anna slides off his bed and bounces out of his room, telling him to meet her downstairs in thirty minutes. He figures that she’s probably going to hide the alpha’s gift box and ribbon somewhere in her room until she can return it to them later tonight, and forces himself to end where all those thoughts are about to circle back to before he’s pure confusion and anxiety in a human shape. 

Their house is actually closer to the pond than it is to the main body of the creek, so once they had tugged on their swimwear, outside layers, grabbed a quick breakfast, and snuck out, it didn’t take them very long to follow the thin branch off of the creek to where it fed into a decently sized pond. The water is clear and refreshing against his warm skin and he dives in after Anna enthusiastically, the two of them competing to see who can swim to the center the fastest. 

They stay until they are waterlogged in every sense of the word. Their pruny skin erupting in gooseflesh as they chase the sunset all the way back to the house.  

* * *

When he re-enters his room, no longer smelling of pond water and mud, his mind is steady and more focused. He’s thought about yesterday a lot while he was swimming, and Castiel feels that while he’s not more open to the ceremony per se, he does feel more prepared for it. He’s certain that he can deal with this new development too. 

Mostly, he’s decided that although he’s unsure if he wants to be bonded for life to an alpha that still a stranger to him, there is no doubt that he’s curious about the idea. He walks over to his nightstand to pick the collar up. A moment of hesitation passes then he buckles under the urge to slide the smooth, supple leather along the skin of his cheek. He doesn’t know how the alpha has managed it, but this collar is like something out of his dreams. 

This close to his face, he can’t resist trying to scent it even though he knows that it will be difficult for him to do so when his body is still going through the change. But there it is again. The unmistakable catch of spice, something like cinnamon? Or nutmeg? And then leather, of course, but also a woodsiness? Which, Castiel dismisses, could just as easily come from the box it was housed in. It does smell like that knife though. And with its scent comes an unnameable rightness about it deep within Castiel’s gut. 

He sets the thing down, too tired to force himself into an obsessive spiral after such a physically active day. Castiel yawns and drags his feet down the stairs to the living room, curling up next to his cousins on the couch. It’s no use though, soon after he eats a late dinner, he’s already itching to go to sleep, eyes watering every time he turns the page of the books he’s reading. 

Yet whatever he does, Castiel can’t seem to catch a break today. In bed, despite being physically tired, he tosses and turns, his legs tangling in the comforter until he’s forced to kick it off and adjust the lines of his clothes that got wrapped around his body. He skin itches, but it’s not sleep as he thought mere hours before. There is heat building low in his belly. He rolls into the cooler spot of his bed, and his eyes land on the beautiful collar set upon his nightstand. 

Blue eyes fixed on it, he tries not to groan, feeling slick slowly leak and catch on the fine hairs of his backside. Castiel wonders what it would feel like to wear it, to be collared and claimed by an alpha that was as doting and thoughtful as this one seemed to be. 

Before he can think too much about his actions, he grabs the collar with greedy fingers. Slipping it around his neck would be too much, so once it’s in his hands he takes time to enjoy its weight and scent.  Feeling his desire mounting as he plays with the soft leather in his fingers, Castiel wraps it around his wrist in two lazy loops. His other hand makes its way to the hem of his sleep pants. He plays with the drawstring teasing himself, still trying to shake off the lingering disbelief of what he is about to do. 

As he moves from gentles brushes and teases outside his pants to engulfing his cock within his tight fist, he gives in to the need to bury his nose into the loops of the collar around his wrist. A shockingly high whine spills from his lips. His nose is flooded with spice and leather and he’s instantly dripping hot, sticky slick. There’s so much of it that it is pooling between his thighs, even wetting the fabric of the front of his pants. He can feel it thick and heavy with the fingers he has wrapped around his cock, and all of a sudden, Castiel knows that fucking into his fist is not going to be enough. It is neither what he wants nor what he needs right now, and he is quick to slide his hand straight through all that slick until he’s slipping two fingers into his hole. 

He cries out at the feeling of them. The only thing saving him from making enough noise to wake the whole house is the fact that he still has his other wrist braced over his mouth and nose.  He continues fucking himself the best he can with only his fingers, desperate to be filled and taken. The collar’s scent and feel makes the feeling worse, but he can’t bring himself to move it away or stop. 

Touching himself has never felt this intense before, and Castiel doesn’t know if this new urgency in his blood is because his heat is close or because of this collar, this alpha. 

He’s turned onto his stomach now, rutting into the mattress in filthy smears with his pants low around his thighs. His eyes are shut tight. The only points of any significance quickly become the cinnamon burn in his nose and the pads of his fingers brushing up against his prostate with every thrust.

The black behind his eyelids flood with images the closer he gets to his peak. And instead of a phantom touch that is of unknown origin, it is to freckled hands and strong shoulders and green, green eyes that Castiel comes, sobbing wet, and gasping with the strength of his release.

He falls asleep to thoughts of Dean. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh! That was a bear of a chapter. If you are still with me, thank you for reading! The next chapter we'll begin to see a picking up of the pace, and there will be some Dean?! How much though, I can't say :3 Also, getting out my apologies ahead of time because I have a friend's birthday coming up and then my own, so the next chapter will take longer to finish up. But we will get to Cas's heat by chapter four, for sure. 
> 
> Some parts of this were edited very quickly, so please, please let me know about typos or anything odd. Thank you. ETA: I just want to say thank you for all the lovely comments I've gotten so far! They've been really inspirational.


	3. Pre Heat: Day 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel's roller coaster of emotions continues.

Morning strikes him bright and bold, baking his overworked form in its cocoon of blankets. Someone must have switched the heater on in the night because his skin is damp and sticky. More so than he’s gotten used to in the last two days since he’s sensed the change in his body. Castiel groans softly as he pushes the covers off, dragging his hand to his shoulder to rub at the curious stiffness that has settled over his limbs. The feeling of soft warm leather glides over his heated skin with his motion, and the residual fog of sleep lifts completely as Castiel becomes hyper aware of the thick band on his wrist. The thrilling weight of the collar’s heavy constriction. 

A whimper escapes Castiel’s throat when he can finally work himself up to look at it. And though his body tingles pleasantly, sore and fulfilled in the morning after he’s touched himself, his cheeks heat with an unwelcome flush as the vague memory of green eyes and strong freckled hands, thighs, shoulders trickle to the forefront of his consciousness. 

The Dean of his fantasy stays with him as he shakily slides out of bed. Beams of bright light casting his eyes shut with involuntary action as they hit his face. He leans against his nightstand, shivering, and the image behind the orange-red glow of his eyelids is of Dean’s body heavy above him and hotter than the slick pouring from Castiel’s hole. For a moment it is more real to him than the cool, polished top of his night table under his palm. 

He sheds his layers, peeling the clinging fabric from his skin and using whatever dry patch he can finds to wipe away the steadily chilling sweat from his limp hair. He starts towards his bathroom and pauses, thinking better of becoming vulnerable without any precautions. Just in case Anna decides to surprise him again today, he briefly detours to his door so that he can lock it. As close as his family is, the type of potential surprise that would result should she enter his room while he’s undressed would be unpleasant for them both. 

Half naked and wanting nothing more than to jump into his shower, Castiel takes the opportunity to gently tug the looped collar off his wrist and set it safely on the surface of his desk as he moves from his door to the connected bathroom. 

His shower is cold and gratifying, but he does not appreciate the physical clarity that comes over him. Under both soap and spray, his body cools and the bone deep goodness under his skin brings to light how incredibly satiated he feels. How well his body responded to being filled and stretched—even if it was only around his own fingers. Deep within him, the desire for a knot is still there. And more than anything he wants to know if it would be different, if it would be any better if it were Dean’s knot forcing him wide and full. Familiar heat pulls the muscles in and around his groin tight, and Castiel’s small, soft cock fills up as he adds to the images that he had eagerly come to the night before. 

Dean above him again, pressing him down, opening his thighs until they could fit the solid, alpha mass of him between them. He touches his nipples with cold, wet fingers and shudders at the sharp pleasure that ripples through him in response.  Castiel’s hands inch ever closer to his cock, gliding along wet skin. He sucks his lip into his mouth, running his teeth against the flesh the way his imaginary Dean would. The sharp scrape of teeth leading him to dig his fingernails into the sensitive skin of his thigh. The pain of the sting is soothed by the water still falling against him, and he is lost to the image of Dean’s hot mouth marking his thighs for his own. 

Castiel chokes back soft gasps, biting down harshly on the lip he still has captured in his mouth. Blood, thick and coppery, floods the shallow dip where his tongue rests against his front teeth. And oh, _oh_. Suddenly all he can think about is mating Dean, picking a place on his body to sink his small omega teeth into. Being bitten in return as the taste of Dean fills his mouth and takes over his senses. 

An icy chill is quick to replace the desire that had flooded through his veins just seconds ago. He tilts his head back until it meets the tiled wall with a dull thunk, and curls his fingers into tight fists to prevent himself from touching anyplace that would reignite the flames. He licks his bottom lip to chase away the small drop of blood, and with it, Castiel tries to banish all thoughts of mating. Guiltily, he turns to press his cheek to the tile and waits there until the spray is no longer soothing but icy. He grabs the forgotten washcloth and in hurried, efficient movements scrubs himself down, careful not to pay any special attention to any place that would send him spiraling back into fantasies that will do nothing but tease him cruelly once the moment of pleasure has past. 

He finishes and begins to dry himself off and reminds himself that sating his body with thoughts of Dean is one thing, but mating is too fanciful and ridiculous a thing for Castiel to expect when his body can’t even do heat properly.  No, mating is not for him. 

Once dry, Castiel rushes into his room quickly. He grabs the baggiest sweater he has from his closet and carelessly pulls on all his clothes with the mentality that the more he added to his slender frame, the better equipped he would be to deal with today’s mess of emotions. 

On the way out the door, he pauses. The latent itchiness building up underneath his skin once more. He grips the brass knob on the door tightly, looking at his knuckles turn pale and white. Castiel pushes his forehead into the wooden door and shakes his head, wanting to deny the cause of his hesitation but being unable to resist the draw of the cinnamon over leather scent that he can smell even through the fog of sweetness that is seeping out of his pores. He drags himself away from the door until he is standing in front of his desk, staring at the culprit that lies there, coiled innocently in a heap. 

The leather speaks to him on an instinctual level that he can’t ignore. It seems to say that there is an alpha out there that wants him for more than just his heat. To promise him the things he’s certain Dean never will. He’s not pleased with himself, but knowing that he will be distracted and drawn to it all day otherwise, he wraps the leather around his wrist and marvels at the way the itchiness under his skin, the omega scratching for things that he’s denied, settles minutely with its renewed weight. 

* * *

 

Anna cheerily greets him when he sits down next to her on the tiny breakfast table that is squashed into the corner of the kitchen. She has a smear of yellow paint across her nose. It sets off the pinkness of her complexion, the redness of her eyelids, and he clenches his fist against the urge to wipe it off. He knows better. Getting semi-wet acrylic on his hands is not something he’s in the mood for this morning. To his left, Hannah is reading through emails one handed, dressed in finely pressed gray and white, and Inias is missing from the table, nowhere to be seen. Most likely he has already gone to work at the water purification plant that Hannah is in charge of. 

The smell of their breakfast, salty bacon and pancakes and sweet fruit, consumes him, and he finds his mouth watering in anticipation of the food set out before him. 

“Did Anna cook?” He asks, slyly glancing at his sister. 

She pauses, strawberry halfway to her mouth, to frown at him. Her eyes bright with challenge, but she doesn’t get to say anything over Hannah’s half mumbled assurance that Inias had cooked earlier this morning before he left. 

From the middle of the table, he grabs the pot of coffee set on its portable warmer and pours the rich, dark liquid into the empty mug that had been waiting for him. It’s warm in his hands and smells heavenly, and he absentmindedly stirs in spoonfuls of sugar while inhaling the perfect scent. “Thank the moon for Inias. I can eat this without fear of getting sick.” 

“Ha. Ha. Jokes on you because I set the table and poisoned your dishes anyway. Now you’ll turn into the evil lizard boy that you really are,” she quips, sticking her tongue out before viciously tearing off a piece of bacon with her teeth. 

“And Inias maintains that we don’t have children,” Hannah whispers. 

Her tone is drier than the desert, and both Anna and Castiel cringe and squirm at the sound of it. As often as they like to tease each other, Hannah’s fond exasperation whenever faced with their childishness is something they both hate, the lingering need for her approval something they can’t shake no matter how many years have passed since she first took them in. 

They share squinty eyed looks over their breakfast in commiseration as the room turns silent but for the sounds of forks clattering against plates. 

“Oh, before I forget, Castiel,” Hannah says, turning and focusing all of her attention onto Castiel. “Do you mind if Rachel tags along with you today? Naomi doesn’t want to leave her with Gabriel after the incident with the chickens, and I have to help Inias today.” 

Castiel snorts messily into his sleeve. How Aunt Naomi ended up raising someone like Gabriel is something that is a mystery to all of them. Their strange antics remind him to be grateful Hannah, despite only just coming of age herself, put so much effort into keeping them after both her parents and theirs had passed away in the accident. He doesn’t think he would have done well in a house like Naomi’s. A house that is filled with so many headstrong, contrasting personalities. 

He does not have much to get done today and unsaid between them is the suggestion that Anna would be useless with Rachel. While she is always willing to help Castiel or Hannah out, she generally did not enjoy being pulled away from her art for anything other than food. And if the mess of paint under her fingernails and smeared into her overalls were any indication, then she had already been at it for quite some time this morning. 

Castiel nods his acquiescence when the thought suddenly occurs to him that he is supposed to deliver the news from the clinic to Alpha singer and finalize the day when his heat would start, and consequently, his ceremony. 

“Does this mean you are not coming with me to talk to Alpha Singer?” He asks, quickly gulping down his coffee in hopes that it would hide the tremble of nerves that lined the rough timbre of his voice. 

Hannah’s eyes are deep and considerate, the blue of them clear over the tired lines and dark shadows underneath, when she says, “Yes. I’m sorry, Castiel.” 

It’s not her fault that she has to work. Just like it’s not Anna’s fault that she has a life outside of watching out for him, but he still feels the flutter of nerves in his gut from yesterday. He shakes his head at her apology, shooting a soft, if strained, smile to show his cousin that he wasn’t upset. When Hannah’s gaze returns to her laptop, he is grateful and turns to his plate. 

Twirling his fork in his hand, Castiel frowns at the food that he had piled on just moments before. That itchy unsettled feeling is making itself present once more, and coupled with the fluttering in his stomach at the thought of meeting with Alpha Singer in just hours, he can’t seem to find his appetite.  He presses his chin into the palm of his right hand, leaning heavily on the table as he rubs his eyes with his other palm. The scent of leather and cinnamon and dirt and woods grounds him. Fills the trembling cracks inside of him and he inexplicably relaxes in the same manner in which he did earlier that morning. 

Castiel pushes his food away, and his frown deepens. He shifts, thumbing the edge of the soft leather in a twisted mixture of trepidation and fascination. Unlike the knife, which captured his attention because it was unexpected and unusual a gift to give an omega, the mating collar draws him in through purely base instincts. And he recognizes that the appropriate emotion to feel would be the very same unsettling bundle of nerves that he feels for this whole first heat business, but he can’t. He likes it, quite a lot if last night was anything to go by. This is something that baffles him because he knows nothing about this alpha at all. 

“What’s wrong, Castiel?” Anna asks, tentatively reaching out to touch the back of his hand with stained fingers. 

The touch and the question break him out of his reverie, and Castiel stares at the concerned quirk of her brow, the red-hot disk of light refracting from her hair before he pulls away, sniffing and grumbling, “Nothing’s wrong, Anna.” 

“Well that’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.” Anna sighs, scratching at the cracking flakes produced by the fully dried paint on her nose. “You’re frowning, little brother. And touching that collar like you can’t decide if you like it or it’s done you harm.” 

He shies away from her searching look, shrugs, and tucks his hands away in the sleeves of his bulky sweater. It’s a futile gesture, but he doesn’t want them to pay more attention to the collar than he’s brought to it. 

From the corner of his eye, he sees Hannah’s dark hair sway as she tilts her head. She and Anna do their best to share a look over his head. 

Castiel clenches his teeth against the liquid sting that bubbles up behind his eyelids at the utterly gentle way Hannah sweeps his bangs away from where it is falling over his brow and catching his eyelashes. He feels sharp and fragile, rubbed raw, caught in the middle of their concern. The rational part of him blames the cocktail of hormones in his bloodstream for the mess of his emotions. 

“I thought you wanted to be courted? When we were at the clinic, didn’t you say that you wanted this to mean something?” Hannah asked cautiously. 

“Yes, of course.” Castiel says, quick to assure them that he has not changed his mind in that regard. He untucks his hands from the warm folds of his sweater sleeves and runs his fingers over the ridges of the leather. Absentmindedly, he wonders how many times he has already done that today. How many more times will he be caught marveling at it. “But this is a handmade mating collar. And still the alpha masks their identity. I cannot help but wonder why, if this alpha is apparently interested in me, won’t they face me properly?” 

Anna leaps to the chance to soothe his concerns, asking, “Perhaps they don’t think you’d want them if you knew who they were?” And it is easy for her to take the side of someone that she’s met and approved of. 

Castiel keeps his eyes trained on the collar and tries not to be resentful over it. 

“Well if they honestly respect me,” he grits out with not a little heat lacing his words. “They should give me a chance to meet them before I have to make a decision about whether I like them or not without even knowing what they look like.” 

Avoiding their scrutiny like he is, he doesn’t see her face, but Castiel can sense Anna shift in the seat next to him. He tenses while waiting for her to say something in defense of the alpha or her role in the courting practice. 

Hannah speaks up before he can find out what Anna was about the say. Her voice is stern and brooks no argument, the type of tone that she uses when in alpha mode. “If you really want to meet them, I am sure Anna can arrange something.” 

Castiel grimaces, biting his lips against the heavy sigh that is threatening to spill out. Almost instantly he is regretting voicing his thoughts, for he did not intend to encourage Hannah to push Anna’s hand in regards to the courting. Nor does he want Hannah to feel like she needs to baby him regardless of how much he secretly needs her presence to stem the anxiety that he feels about his heat. After all, he is fully an adult now, with heats and all that entails, confusion and frustration is something that will inevitably have to learn how to deal with from now on. 

Wondering what Anna could possibly think, being ordered to do something for his sake the way she was, he curiously looks up at her from the down swept turn of his head. 

Her face is relaxed and contemplative, a careful smile curling the corners of her lips. “Well I have to meet with them sometime today anyway. I could ask—if you want me to?” 

He immediately uncurls from his stiff, tense perch on the chair. Nodding furiously at her as he breathes out in a rush of dizzying, delighted air, “I do.” 

* * *

 

Inias had taken the one car the four of them share between them with him to work when he left this morning, so Hannah walks with him as far as the bend in the foot trail that led to Naomi’s house. There Castiel quickly ducks in and out so that he can dodge any potential ribbing from Gabriel as he picks Rachel up for the day. They continue on the path that leads from her house to the clinic. Castiel does not minding the walk since he is more than happy to avoid the stifling trapped feeling that overcomes him whenever he needs to be in the tiny plastic contraption on wheels. Yet, stopping by the clinic for a written copy of his test results and then trekking practically across the entire territory in order to reach Alpha Singer’s house is not pleasant for Rachel, and he mourns his luck at being saddled with the nine year old. 

Beyond bored with tagging along and whining incessantly, he ends up having to convince her that he needs her protection because of his upcoming heat so that she stops in favor of diligently guarding him. This has the hilarious effect of Rachel puffing up and glaring at every alpha that they pass during their walk.  Castiel can do without the added embarrassment of his easily excitable cousin on top of the knowing glances shot his way, and he bites his lip and breathes through his nose, caught between the conflicting urge to laugh or hide his face. 

When they finally arrive at the quaint cabin, Castiel is red cheeked and ready to give Rachel back to her brother, damn what might happen to unsuspecting chickens. The house has chipped red walls and a tall stone chimney, and it’s picturesque in the sort of shabby, dignified way that suits Alpha Singer. The door is ajar, a bug screen the only barrier between the inside and the woods surrounding, and Castiel shakes off his hesitation to enter the living room.   

In the room sits several alphas most likely waiting to talk to Alpha Singer; their eyes lift to focus on Castiel and several of those eyes glaze red at the sweet scent that must permeate the room and flood their senses on his arrival. Castiel shifts skittishly and starts at the high pitched, childish growl that erupts from behind him. Raising his arm and turning as she pushes past him, Castiel marvels at her aggressive stance. The little alpha really means to defend him against the interested stares of the unmated alphas in the room.   

He gently tugs on her hair to get her attention, using his other hand to pull her into his side and away from the bemused alphas. “Thank you for your protection, but that’s enough of that now, Rachel. Nothing’s going to happen here.” 

With a toss of her long hair, Rachel shrugs him off and sits on an empty chair in the front of the room, not hesitating to scowl at the rest of them. Some of the alphas chuckle at the gutsy child, but the flash of teeth she shows and Castiel’s own annoyed scowl are enough to make them turn back to what they were doing. He doesn’t think any of them will actually take Rachel as a challenge, especially not in Alpha Singer’s house, but he is unfamiliar with most of the alphas here and he doesn’t want to test them when he’s reeking more and more of ripe omega. 

“Is Alpha Singer free?” Castiel asks, glancing around the dim living room and into what he can see of the kitchen and hallway. “I’m supposed to meet with him in a few minutes and—” 

“Just get in here, kid,” Alpha Singer’s voice calls from an open door down that hallway. “I ain’t got all day.” 

With a glance to make sure that Rachel was okay, Castiel darts down the hall into a small room that looks like what Alpha Singer uses as an office. The office has big squishy chairs in a faded, mustard yellow so off-putting that Castiel sits in it before he really has a chance to dwell on the color. Next to him and scattered in all corners of the room are piles of book, their old vanilla scent as strong as the dust that lines their covers. Alpha Singer sits in front of him, at a wooden desk covered in papers. 

He looks older than most of the members of the pack, but that is not necessarily an indicator of age so much as stress since many tend to live very long lives. He peers at Castiel with assessing gray eyes under the brim of a dirty cap and scratches his beard while grumbling something under his breath that Castiel does not quite catch. Bobby Singer turns out to be a man of few words and even fewer social graces. It’s a combination that shouldn’t put him at ease, but Castiel is struck by the matter-of-fact, gruff way that he handles the topic of Castiel’s heat. Everything seems to be resolved so quickly, preparations made for a heat ceremony in just two days from now, that Castiel barely has time to dwell on the sweep of nerves within him. Not even thirty minutes pass in Alpha Singer’s before he’s kindly, but quickly, ushered out into the living room again. 

Watching one of the waiting alpha’s follow Alpha Singer back into his office, Castiel is left gaping at the hallway he just emerged from. The meeting had not even lasted thirty minutes, and he is admittedly confused to be leading Rachel out of the cabin and onto the trail once again. 

The walk back is quiet enough, leaves and rocks crunching underneath their boots the only noise other than the occasional late winter bird still lingering in the trees, the weather not yet cold enough for their flight down south. Rachel is telling him some fantastical story about Gabriel that he does not know whether to doubt or believe while he breathes in the crisp air steadily and tries not to think about his official two day time limit. 

His lungs fill with the scent of wood, dirt, and fresh overturned leaves. A combination of scents that align well with those that mark the collar around his wrist. It’s this similarity that prevents him from noticing the sudden wave of cinnamon and spice as anything other than a wisp of scent from the collar. The added sound of new footsteps crinkling the leaves along the trail is what finally causes him to turn his gaze away his cousin and look at the two figures that are coming up the path.

With so many browns and oranges filling the space where there once was verdant, the bright green of Dean’s eyes are dazzling, striking Castiel in such a way that his chest burns with lack of air. The light dapples over the bridge of his nose and cheeks, and his freckles are dark, endearingly so. Castiel licks his lips and forces himself to exhale, tearing his eyes away. The heavy bend of his brow casts deep shadows over his eyes, rocks suddenly so fascinating that he is sweating, intensely warm, at the depth of focus he is using to study them. 

Next to him, Rachel straightens, alert. 

Castiel resists the temptation to watch Dean and Benny pass them on their way to Alpha Singer’s cabin, exerting great effort to keep his arms loose by his sides and belie the mortifying warmth spreading through him. The fragrant sweetness clouding the air. 

They brush past, and intent on his feet as he is, he doesn’t see them shift positions. But he feels it. Pressed against his side but for a moment, the world becomes a series of singular points of focus. Dean’s shoulder brushing his, his forearm solid and radiating heat, the startling intimate sweep of his fingers dragging over the back of Castiel’s hand, curling underneath the coiled loops of the mating collar. Tugging on it until it is pulled tight and flush to his racing pulse. 

Castiel mouth waters, and still he feel too hot, parched in the cold damp of the autumn woods. His skin erupts in goose flesh, the too much feeling of his body hair rubbing upon the fabric of his clothes unsettling him. Dean is gone then. 

He stops and breathes and all he can smell is spice, leather, cinnamon, leaves, so much stronger than it’s ever been. Castiel turns, heart in his throat and his breaths louder that the beat of it in his ears, and he watches the broad slope of Dean’s back as he walks up the trail and away from him. He is perfectly still but on the precipice of shaking like the branches above him. The slow drip of euphoria oozing its way through him as he makes the connection between the gifts and his scent. 

Next to him Rachel is saying something. He blinks down at her. 

She wrinkles her nose, chubby cheeks rounded in punctuation to her pout. “I _said_ that Alpha Winchester must be curious like the others.” 

“Others?” He asks. His voice cracks and sounds strangely distant. Castiel swallows and shakes his head, rubbing his arms free of the goose flesh that has yet to go away. 

“The other alphas that were back there,” she explains, rolling her eyes with the sort of irreverent callousness that was typical of children. “Interested in an omega’s heat.” 

Castiel blanches. It takes everything in him to remember that she is Naomi's daughter and Gabriel’s sister. That although they often mean well, they were known for the occasional bouts of casual cruelty. He couldn’t lash out on her for saying something her own mother would say. And Rachel has always been a blunt child. 

He shouldn’t assume the worse.  

She couldn’t have meant to imply that Dean was also blinded by the allure of his heat.

Cold, deep and internal, hits him in ways that he is unprepared for. His layers doing little to stop the shaking of his hands.  

Because, of course. There’s no way someone like Dean would genuinely want an omega like him. If it's so obvious that Rachel can see it, then it's exactly what the rumors say about him—a broken, unnatural omega.  

Castiel stumbles forward, leading Rachel back to his house without so much as a reply to her statement. There is little to comfort him on the trip back. Not even the weight and scent of the collar helping as his mind spins in directions that cast doubt and shadows on all of Dean’s actions. He had hoped that these gifts meant something more, but he can’t seem dismiss the idea that Rachel was right. 

He thinks back, and Castiel cannot even remember a time when Dean had paid attention to him in any way that was other than friendly.

* * *

 

Castiel is quiet and withdrawn when they get back to the house. The silence between him and Rachel growing to nearly oppressive heights on the way there. She’s equally subdued, asking to watch one of his animal documentaries and generally trying to cheer him up. It’s done with the general air of wary confusion like she knows that he’s upset but she not sure if she has anything to do with it. 

He chews his lip and gives her a wobbly smile and really tries his best, but when they hear the rhythmic knock distinctive to Gabriel, he’s more than ready to leave her to her brother. 

The time that has passed has given him time to dwell and internalize. So it is with brittle anger that he raps sharply at the door to Anna’s work room. 

She looks frazzled opening the door, clothes more disheveled and covered with paint than they were earlier this morning. The harsh chemical of stink of oil paints coupled with the softer scents of wood, acrylic, paper waft out in a fog around her. He steps back, cringing at his abrupt and acute sensitivity to it. 

“Have you already given Dean the box back?” He bites out, crossing his arms and painfully pressing his bitten nails into his forearms. 

Anna eyes widen. Her head tilts in a parody of his own favorite expression, visibly taken aback by the aggression lining his voice. “How did you find out it was Dean?” 

“That doesn’t matter right now,” he says. He grips himself tighter and forces the glassy edge out of his voice and stance, imploring her, “Please. I need to know if you’ve seen him yet today.” 

“No, not yet.” She shifts to lean on the door, scent warm and comforting in its indescribable earthiness. 

He squeezes his eyes shut, helpless to the thought that he can now identify the threads of Dean’s scent better than his sister’s, better than even his own. Castiel can feel the fight in him waver. His anger thin to begin with. 

He’s quiet. The silence between them says more than he could with stilted words. 

“Okay,” she says softly, nodding. “Okay. I’ll text him and let him know that you want to talk to him tomorrow?” 

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “tomorrow is great. I—” He coughs, pained and hesitant to look at her directly. 

She reaches out and hugs him, arms strong and tight despite her diminutive size. He takes a shuddering breath, still short enough to indulge in his childhood habit of burying his nose into her hair without it being awkward. For a moment he can pretend that his problems are his big sister’s to deal with, but the reality of the situation is that this hurt is his to figure out and navigate. There is little she can do. 

Anna pats him on the back, calls him little brother, tells him it’ll be alright, soothes the anxious omega in him. When she pulls back, it’s with a weak smile. Her teeth pointed and dangerous, she threatens, “I better not have to beat that meathead up.” 

He is at a loss for what else to say, so Castiel laughs.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to thank everyone who has been so kind and patient with me! I really needed it lately! This month has been really rough, but I promise the story is plotted out and that I will not abandon it. 
> 
> As always if you notice any errors I missed through my quick edit, please let me know. ETA: I fixed some text near the end, but no major changes. :3


End file.
